Changing Weather

I picked up the paper and walked back up the drive to the house. It was sopping wet despite being enveloped in two plastic bags. “That’s OK,” I thought, as I tossed it in the recycling bin, I don’t always read it anyway, I mostly subscribe just to do my part to keep a local actual newspaper in business.

The paper was soaked and so was everything else. I haven’t kept track – I don’t really want to know – but I’m pretty sure it has rained every day since spring break. Mid-March to mid-June is a long time. I’m not complaining. Just stating the facts. Cincinnati weather is not ideal, but it could be worse. Much worse.

Having lived in 8 cities, 5 states, central Europe, and spent time in lots of different climes, I consider myself, while not a weather expert, widely experienced in terms of weather. I have heard this saying everywhere I have been, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.” But, of all the places I know, Cincinnati has the most changeable weather. In Colorado or Texas it can be sunny for weeks at a time. In Iowa it can be dreary and rainy for weeks at a time. But here the weather changes all the time.

I know, I said it has been rainy every day since spring break, but not rainy all day. It has also been sunny most days too. Which pretty much makes it feel like a sauna outside. It dumps an inch or so, then gets sunny.

I ate outside on the deck this evening just out of stubbornness. I decided that if I wait for a cool, dry evening I might be eating indoors all summer. The table was wet, and my glasses kept fogging up. At one point I cleaned them off, but it didn’t help that much, the air was so humid it still looked foggy with clean glasses.

I loved the sound of the songbirds, and the stream rushing by, and the evening light on the deck. I ignored the sweat running down my back and enjoyed my grilled steak and veggies. I went 1 for 2 at the grocery store, this afternoon. They did have some nice meat in the “on sale because it’s almost past the ‘sell by’ date” so I got a great price, but they were out of Shiner Bock. I compromised for a Wisconsen beer. It was not bad, but I should have gone with the Dos Equis. The fireflies are coming out now. I love fireflies. I never saw them as a kid, and now I can’t seem to get over how cool they are. They must love the rain, because the yard is alive with them.

It was, pretty much, my first day of summer, even though we’ve been out of school two weeks. Have you ever done something for someone that was nice. I did. I don’t think I can ever do enough nice things for others to make up for all the nice things people have done for me, but I feel calm and peaceful and sort of small, and like I somehow in sync with things. I feel like what I imagine a drill would feel like, if it could, when a carpenter drills a hole in wood, or a hammer driving a nail. Have you ever seen the face of those dogs that pull the dogsleds across the snow in Alaska? Joy and fulfillment – doing what they were made to do. That’s how I feel – working hard at what I’m good at, making progress, and loving it.

Transition

Unbroken snow, sparkling in the afternoon sun, smooth, soft, deep, perfect has lain over the lawn four days straight, untouched by boot or glove. There stands no snowman, fortress, cache of snowballs. There has been no snowball war, trail-blazing, fox and geese. The unblemished white carpet reveals no snow angels, sled tracks, tunnels, or caves. No great mounds of snow or giant snowballs at tall as me.

At what point in my life did I become satisfied to admire the snow through the window?